Assassin's Creed: The Templar's Temptation
by Ms.MaraJade
Summary: A detailed explanation of the significant moments between Breanne Wynsridge and Noris Polona, as highlighted in my previous story, "Assassin's Creed: Choices."
1. Chapter 1 - An Imprisoned Introduction

_Author's Notes_ : As promised at the end of "Assassin's Creed: Choices," I am providing this little 3-chapter tale to detail the moments between Breanne Wynsridge and Noris Polona. If you come across this story before reading "Choices," it can be read as a standalone, but reading Choices provides a better understanding of these characters and their significance.

 _Disclaimer_ : I do not own Assassin's Creed or Star Wars. I do, however, lay claim to Breanne and Jaksen Wynsridge, along with Noris Polona.

 _Summary_ : A detailed explanation of the significant moments between Breanne Wynsridge and Noris Polona, as highlighted in my previous story, "Assassin's Creed: Choices."

 **Interlude: The Templar's Temptation**

 **Part 1 – An Imprisoned Introduction**

 **Netone City  
Planet Bevin**

It was supposed to have been a simple capture and data retrieval. He was already in custody, and she had been in the vicinity handling other matters, but the information he carried was vital to her husband. It only seemed logical for her to contact her beloved and let him know that she would be returning home with the data extraction he awaited. His voice on the other end of the comlink had been grateful that he had such a motivated Templar in his home, but the loving approval she expected never came. Instead, it was all business, and she had to presume it was because he could not show weakness to those who might be within listening distance on his end. Knowing it would do no good to dwell on her husband's immediate lack of affection, Breanne Wynsridge had shut down the comlink, not allowing his cool demeanor to disturb the mission she chose for herself.

As she walked towards the room where the prisoner was awaiting, she held her head high and would not admit her home concerns to anyone. She did not have time to dwell on her husband's gradually building coolness, but she still needed to quell her growing excitement, as this would be her first encounter with an Assassin, despite her forty-one years of life – twenty years of which involved her marriage to Jaksen. Throughout their marriage, her husband knew how to delegate the tasks amongst his subordinates, allowing her to stay safe. He always meant well to protect her, and he had been nothing but capable of ensuring that their lives were comfortable and secure. But, in his doing so, he had forgotten over the years that Breanne was not raised as a helpless damsel. She had been trained in physical defense since her childhood, and she maintained her skills as much as she could, but even she had to admit that in these years of her life, many of her skills had diminished. So, it was with great caution that her husband had allowed this arrangement before she cleared Bevin with his data.

Breanne hesitated before the closed door, drowning in the curiosity of meeting one of the people that was considered a nemesis to her Order. She felt an overwhelming enthusiasm at this anticipatory encounter, reminding herself to heed her husband's words and maintain her distance from the Assassin. Jaksen understood that she had this one opportunity to satiate her inquisitiveness, but he warned her to quickly return with the data she was to retrieve from his subordinates and not to prolong her departure. She knew that the men who had caught the Assassin would dispose of him, but it was on Jaksen's order that they had restrained from doing so, as she had argued a convincing case to her husband for her curiosity, and he had reluctantly relented to her petitions.

Before opening the door, Breanne decided that she needed to ensure she was every bit a proper Templar. She tugged gently at her long tunic sleeves, smoothing the light green fabric to a perfection before she ran a finger over the collar to ensure it was secured appropriately near her neck. It would do no good if she appeared promiscuous, flaunting her curves as opposed to standing rigid and poised without her body to act as a feminine distraction. After all, she was a countess on her home-world, and she needed to ensure that this Assassin showed appropriate respect to the woman he would be meeting.

She gave the long tunic a tug towards the back, and the skirt of the material settled into her belt more stiffly. Her dark green pants were as tucked into her knee-high brown boots as best as she could do, and she decided that she could appear no more proper than she already was.

Pushing on the button of the door release, Breanne stepped into the room that was part of an empty set of offices in a three-story building. The top floor and bottom floor were still occupied with laboratories and offices, but this middle section was awaiting a renter. It was an ideal place to hold a prisoner, as it was far enough above ground that no one at street level could linger and attempt to peer inside the tinted windows.

Stepping forward, Breanne fought to silence her gasp, as she wasn't entirely certain what to expect but still surprised by the sight. The Assassin's wrists were cuffed above his head and secured onto a pipe that would normally have been hidden behind tiles on the low ceiling. He was suspended above the floor, with his dark brown booted feet dangling at least four inches from the floor. His gray robes fluttered around his shins from the air that pushed through from the ceiling vent that was blowing on his back.

Of the two young Templars in the room who had been involved in the capture of the Assassin, the dark-haired one pushed a button on a small remote, and Breanne instinctively clutched her hand to her mouth to stifle another intake of air as she watched the Assassin's body shake from the stun that came from his cuffs.

"Was that necessary?" Breanne asked, bringing her hand back to her side and not quite certain why she should care since he was only going to be killed in a short time.

"Master Jaksen ordered us to ensure you would receive no harm, Milady," the blonde-haired man with the small mustache offered. "The Assassin has been temporarily paralyzed for your inspection."

Breanne took a breath to compose herself and stepped closer to the Assassin, as he hung harmlessly in place. With his eyes closed and his head leaning forward – his chin tucked upon his chest – her view of his face was obscured. She could only discern that he had light brown hair that was cut short, but with tuffs that were thick upon the top of his scalp. She felt her head tilt slightly in curiosity, as he looked no more a killer than the young servant boy at her home who tripped over himself to ensure she had everything promptly when she called for it.

She was within five feet of the Assassin now, and the two young men gently warned her to step no closer. Heeding their words, Breanne did not move any further towards him but instead scanned her eyes over his robes. She saw gashes in the material, blood stains, and small burn marks that she could not discern their origins, as it was difficult to decide if they were from blaster carbon scoring or fires. His holsters were empty of any weapons, and as her eyes moved up his arms, she saw that his blades had been removed.

"Where are his weapons?" she asked.

"He only carried one blade on his wrist, if that's what you mean," the dark-haired man responded. He was the older of the two Templars from what Breanne could tell. His blue eyes were sharp, and she sensed he had far more experience than he let on, based on the confidence he held. "And only one blaster. We already disposed of them."

Breanne felt a wash of disappointment suddenly, and forced herself to remain neutral. She had no idea what she would have said to the Assassin, but she had wanted him awake so that she could look into his eyes and see what kind of man performs the duties that his kind does. At the very least, she would have liked to have seen for herself what exactly a hidden blade was.

Still, she had other questions, and her husband's Templars would be forced to answer them in the Assassin's unconscious state. "What is his name?"

"Noris Polona," came the reply in a gravelly voice fighting to hide pain, but the voice was not from either of the Templar men. Instead it came from the Assassin, as he lifted his head but kept his eyes concealed in a shadow above him. "There is no need to hide it. You're only going to kill me anyway. You might as well know the name of the man you plan to execute."

Breanne's eyes caught the light-haired Templar as he was about to push on the remote, but her arm immediately stretched out towards him. "Stop."

He hesitated, and she made her voice firm, realizing she had an advantage suddenly, as the Assassin did not know that she was not his executioner. "The prisoner is allowed his final words. I wish to hear them."

"I can't say that I've come into contact with a woman executioner before, especially not one branded as a Templar," his voice spoke, a deep but quiet sound now that held the slightest hint of a smirk in it. There was the impression that whatever pain he had earlier had subsided as his attention had found something else on which to concentrate.

Breanne ignored the Assassin's gentle taunting, keeping her voice firm. "If you have important words to discuss before your end, I would advise you to speak them, or else you will never have what you wish to say known."

"Milady, we have done as you asked, and Master Wynsridge would not approve of our letting you linger," the blonde whispered strongly. His words held an underlying message that her time was over, and she had best return to the transport that would take her home.

Taking a quiet breath to steady her excitement at talking with her enemy in such an intimate setting, Breanne considered what to say next when the sudden rumbling of explosions began around them. She glanced once at the Assassin and saw his body stiffen as he rattled the cuffs above his head, but it was the last thing she saw as walls flew around them, and the ceiling crashed. She vaguely remembered throwing herself towards the pillar in the room, knowing it was the only stable point around them when a deafening noise enclosed her, and she was thrown into an unconsciousness so black it may as well have been death.


	2. Chapter 2 - A Compromise of Opposition

**Part 2 – A Compromise of Opposition**

 **Netone City  
Planet Bevin**

Breanne awoke with her body flattened to the floor and with a ringing that filled her ears. She couldn't even hear herself choking on the dust that she attempted to expel from her lungs. She tried to lift herself from the floor and collapsed instantly, as her left arm would not move without a fire erupting through it, despite the fact that she could feel something warm and sticky covering her skin. Blinking away the haze and the pain, she looked to her arm and saw the crimson that had spread over her light green tunic, and she sucked in a breath of concern. However, she quickly regretted that action as another round of coughing started, the sounds seeming far away in her ringing ears, as the dust kept coming from deep in her lungs.

Forcing herself to sit up against her body's agonized protests, Breanne saw the rubble of a wall that had caved in not more than six feet from her. There was an arm that had been severed laying within the broken permacrete, and a foot that had been set amongst the broken stones as though someone had thrown a person within the destruction. Buried in another pile of debris, she saw the back of the blonde-haired Templar, and for a moment she felt remorse because she had never asked either of them their names, nor did she think to ask for the data that they were safeguarding. She had been far too curious in the Assassin to even bother knowing the men who had aided in her request, and she now mourned for their losses.

As her hearing cleared even more, Breanne heard a gravely scraping, and she turned to see the Assassin's hand pushing on the floor before him. His short, brown hair was covered in dust, and there was a cut on his forehead that was trickling down his face near his eyes.

Her first thought was of anger, as those two young men in her entourage had been crushed by the falling walls and ceiling, but she and her Assassin enemy had been spared. Breanne considered taking any of the number of pieces of debris near her and smashing his head in to finish the job the building's collapse had started, but she was unable as she did not have the strength with her injured arm. She watched him slowly get both arms beneath him and push himself up into a kneeling position before his round of lung-clearing coughs started.

Breanne searched desperately for the stun cuffs that had been on his hands and felt a moment of panic when she saw that they had been smashed apart during the destruction, as one of the cuffs still hung loosely from his left wrist while the right one was entirely missing.

She attempted to stand from the floor, but her legs were not yet ready to hold her weight, and it only resulted in her sliding back into her seated position. Breanne took her predicament to observe around her and noticed how the Assassin's gray-colored sleeves and tapered gray robes were covered in a powder of building permacrete, black streaks, and fresh drops of blood from his head that were expanding into the fabric.

After a few moments, his coughing turned into laughter, and Breanne felt a wave of fear come over her, as she now knew how it would end for her. She had pushed on her curiosity, and in the end it had caught up with her. She steadied herself so that her back was rigidly straight against the only pillar that remained standing in the room they shared, showing him that she would go out with defiance in her eyes, and her only regret was that she would not be able to send a final message to her husband and her sons.

"I have the opportunity to kill my executioner," he laughed softly now as he fell into a more comfortable, seated position.

"Then, do it," she sneered, knowing she could not defend herself in her current condition.

Using his sleeve to wipe away the trickle of blood that covered his brow, the Assassin pushed himself across the floor as he moved to her, and Breanne felt herself stiffen. Even if she was prepared for her end at his hands, she still had that instinctive fear of death that was undeniable for any being to feel when in a no-win situation.

However, instead of wrapping his hands around her neck and squeezing her windpipe as she had expected him to do, he lifted her injured arm and tore at the material surrounding her injury. She started to pull her arm back, thinking he was going to rip more clothing than just her sleeve, as she was definitely an easy target for such defiling.

Breanne's voice was cold like ice as she told him, "Don't touch me."

He grasped her wrist tightly – not enough to hurt her she noticed – but enough to steady her. "I doubt you want an infection, but if you prefer to lose your arm, then by all means do continue to fight."

Their eyes met for a moment, and she saw that, despite the lack of peace between her Order and his Brotherhood, this Assassin had no intentions to pursue their ongoing war at this time.

"I could just walk away and let you die in this rubble," he told her. "You're in no condition to climb or crawl with your arm like this, and if you move it too much you'll eventually bleed to death."

"Then, what compels you to show mercy?" Breanne asked him in her cold voice.

Releasing her wrist, he reached under his robes, and lifted the top layer of tunics to pull on the fabric of a white, lightweight tunic below them. He pulled until he heard the fabric tearing, and grasped a decent wad of the material. He took her other hand and set the wad of material in it.

"You're no executioner," he said. "Now, hold this."

"What?" she asked.

He released a little smirk. "You talk too much. Executioners are generally silent and very few use words."

Breanne could only growl in frustration, as she looked away wondering if she should land her good fist in his jaw.

Noris ignored her as he resumed the task of ripping her sleeve so that he could get a good look at the cut beneath. The gash was deep, but it did not hit bone, and he could see a shard of metal still imbedded in her skin, digging into the muscle below. He studied the wound, deciding how he was going to clean it before he bandaged it.

Shifting his eyes around the destruction that surrounded them, he found a small flask from the Templars that they had shared in their victory of catching him. While the flask had taken a beating and was dented, it was not leaking, and that was a good sign that the alcohol within it would still be useful.

Getting his feet beneath him, he moved towards it and opened it, taking a sniff. He cringed at the pungent alcohol, and screwed the cap back on. It was the best he was going to do without getting out of the rubble and then trying to get back to this woman with a rescue team. He suspected getting out was a one-way trip, and even though the only person left alive was a Templar, he could see that she was not entirely without remorse.

He set himself near her arm again and noticed that her hazel eyes were watching him with suspicion, as though she was still expecting him to somehow take advantage of her. "You already know that I am Noris Polona, but I never caught your name."

"It wasn't like I had time to give it," she shot back, refusing to offer anything more.

With the material removed from her arm now, Noris unscrewed the cap on the flask. "Okay – You – this is going to sting."

He poured a small amount of the potent alcohol onto her arm, and was impressed with the way this Templar sucked in air at the pain, but she did not cry out. Her eyes had developed a rim of tears, but she was not allowing them to fall. Instead she took a few heavy breaths and looked to the way the clear alcohol had pushed aside the blood and grit, showing them just how bad the wound was.

"Breanne," she breathed, as she shifted her eyes back to the Assassin and caught for the first time that his irises were a bright blue color. "My name is Breanne Wynsridge."

"This is going to get worse, you know that, Breanne?" he asked, not so much testing the feel of her name on his tongue, but rather to let her know that he was taking her care seriously. "That shard in there is going to release a burst of agony when I pull it out."

Nodding her head silently, she closed her eyes and leaned against the pillar, her other hand still holding the cloth he had given her and squeezing it tightly. "If you're being honest about helping me, stop talking and just get it done."

Noris poured a small amount of the alcohol onto his fingers and thumb to clear as much of the grit and dirt away that he could. Then, he grasped her arm tightly in his left hand, and using his right thumb and index finger he fought to take hold of the metal shard. Her blood made his fingers slick, but he steadied her struggling by not relenting his grasp. He heard her whimpering as she fought to hold in the scream as his fingers maneuvered around the nerves in her arm. After a few minutes, his fingertips caught the metal in them with a tight grasp, and he pulled it out of her muscle. Another trail of blood flowed fresh upon the fragment's removal, and Noris poured as much of the alcohol over the wound as he dared without using it all.

Breanne cried out and felt the stinging tears sliding down her cheeks, but the constant agony of the metal in her arm had finally released. She was left with a throbbing pain after he cleaned the wound, but it was now something she could tolerate. She felt him pull the cloth from her fingers, and when she opened her eyes she saw that he was tightly wrapping her arm and setting pressure on the wound to get it to slow the bleeding.

Then, he reached towards her waist and started to loosen her decorative belt.

"Bastard!" Breanne screamed as her one fist came towards the Assassin, regretting that she dared to trust him for a moment. He was going to take advantage of her, and he only wanted her out of pain so he could give her pain in other ways.

Noris caught her wrist in his hand to subdue her fight, holding her steady from her attempted attack. "Breanne, stop. I need your belt for a tourniquet."

Knowing she was restrained in his strong hands, Breanne dropped her struggling. She looked over to her arm and saw that the white material he had wrapped over it was quickly turning red. Noris lifted the hand he holding and moved it to press on her wounded arm where the make-shift bandage was wrapped.

"Give it pressure for a few minutes," he instructed, taking her belt from her waist. "You'll need better care than what I did, but you'll at least make it out of here now."

"Why?" Breanne asked, feeling her senses coming back and watching as he took her hand away to wrap the belt over her arm instead.

"The Templars don't teach basic medical practices?" he asked. "Pressure on a bleeding wound…"

"No," she said sternly, cutting him off, much as a short-tempered teacher would with a difficult student. "You know what I meant. Don't be ignorant."

He sat back and used his pants to wipe off the remainder of her blood and the alcohol he had used to rinse his fingers. "You want to know why I helped you when we both know that you would not have helped me."

Breanne felt the flash of shame pass over her at his statement, and she looked at a pile of debris that had once been a wall. She now regretted having posed the question, as the way he rephrased her inquiry made her sound like a selfish tyrant.

"That's what makes us different," he explained as he stood. "I make choices. I chose to help you. By me making my own decision, I am free from the guilt of masters who would try to control my thoughts. You would have just walked away from me, convincing yourself that I'm your enemy and it's against your tenets to have assisted me. You Templars think you're better and above everyone, that we are all pawns for you to use at your disposal, and that's what keeps our war going."

Breanne studied this Assassin, allowing his words to tumble in her head, wondering why she would dare humor what he was telling her. He definitely had a number of years of experience, as there were small lines forming near his eyes, not too unlike hers. The two of them probably had an equal amount of time in their lives, as he could not be more than a year or two older than she was.

"We need to find a way out of here," Noris told her, looking around the debris that was once a building and breaking her thoughts. He could argue creeds and tenets another time, but if he wanted that argument, he would need to live first. "I'm not liking the idea of making this place my burial ground."

Breanne took her hand away from her injury and wiped the thin smear of blood from her hand onto her dark green pants. She moved to stand, and quickly caught herself on the pillar as a wave of dizziness struck her. She fell back onto the floor and felt the Assassin set a hand on her shoulder to steady her, but she shook his arm away.

"I'm fine. I just need a minute."

Noris backed away, knowing that the tension between them would remain as long as they only saw each other as the enemies they were. However, he could not waste his energy on that battle, and he wanted to keep moving. Scratching the back of his head, his eyes moved upwards. The floor beneath them was sturdy enough, but somehow they needed to get above the debris. He saw a section of the floor about eight feet above them that had torn through the ceiling, and there was a space large enough for each of them to climb through, provided he could find a way to get his Templar patient upwards with only one good arm.

"That's our way out," he pointed.

Breanne sighed heavily as she managed to stand now. Slowly, she stepped away from the pillar and assessed the space he was showing her. She didn't want to admit it, but she had seen no other way. Now, she just wondered how they were going to achieve such a task. And as she was trying to figure out how they would escape the trap they were in, the Assassin began reaching up and finding handholds and footholds that were all but invisible to her. In a matter of moments, he was at the top of the pile of debris, and his head was missing as he was looking into the floor above them.

"What's up there?" she asked.

Noris lowered himself back down and looked to the way the Templar was holding her arm again. He knew it would be tricky, and she would have to trust him even more. "There's a hallway we can use to get to the other side of the building. I saw light at the far end that came from the daylight. It's the best chance we're going to have to get out of here."

Breanne nodded silently and stepped closer to Noris. He crouched down and cupped his hands before him.

"I'll lift you up," he instructed, "But you're going to have to climb into the opening. Try to use your good arm as much as possible and keep the strain off the injury."

Taking a deep breath, Breanne set her hands on his shoulders and placed her foot in his hands.

"When I lift you, you'll see what looks like a thick metal pole. It's part of the structure that's still intact. Grab onto it and pull yourself into the hallway."

Breanne did as he had instructed, and with her good arm, she pulled herself as much as possible into what could only be described as a hallway above them. It was a corridor with the wall on the left slanted at such an awkward angle with wires and ceiling pieces jutting down, it might as well have been one of those amusement rides at a carnival where the tunnel turned and twisted. The compressed space forced her to remain in a crouch, however, and she moved cautiously forward as she heard Noris making his way behind her.

The Assassin slipped in front of Breanne and knelt on one knee in the corridor, his eyes assessing the way before he chose where to step. "Do not put your weight near that lighting structure on the right. We need to keep towards the left and avoid those hanging wires."

At that Breanne looked up and realized that there was a spark coming off a set of wires not more than six inches above them, even in their low positions. She watched how Noris moved in front of her, and she decided to follow behind him as closely as propriety allowed because if she misstepped, she was either going to fall through the weakened floor or get electrocuted by the wires above.

Slowly moving together, the pair took a long number of minutes to reach the end of the corridor. The window before them had been smashed out, and while the destruction hung heavy in the air outside, the air out there was far fresher than the dust-filled structure that they had maneuvered through.

Although they were only two stories up, the view offered a sight of the destruction of the city that had been teeming with life and activity only two hours earlier. Craters had been blown into the ground, and where there was once solid roads, there were now holes throughout the streets like an over-sized obstacle course. Buildings were leveled and burning. Many hovercars had been burned on the spots where they were, and other hovercars had crashed from accidents as though trying to avoid something. Where there were people's bodies, they were charred beyond recognition – if there were any parts of them left at all. Smoke billowed from the remnants of everything else, and faded cries could be heard from others who were trapped in the debris.

"What happened?" Breanne asked more to herself than to Noris, as she didn't believe he would know either.

"The war," Noris replied. "The CIS just sent a very dire message to the Republic. They leveled Netone City to make a point that they had adequate firepower and should not be underestimated. The data your men stole from me contained the exact weaponry that the CIS commanded. Now that data is lost in the rubble of this city."

Breanne looked to Noris and saw his head bowed with his shoulders lowered in some kind of respect that she didn't expect of him. He closed his eyes and breathed in softly, seeming to take the attack personally somehow. In some way, Breanne sensed that he was remorseful for the loss of so much life, even if he was not responsible for it. She began to realize that she knew nothing about Assassins – or at least nothing about Noris Polona.

"There is no easy way to do this," he said, breaking her thoughts.

Breanne brought her mind back to the task before them, trying to understand what he meant.

"That debis we need to get through on the way down is only going to last long enough for one run through, and it needs to be fast," he explained. "You'll need to hold onto me."

Breanne swallowed hard, her thoughts quickly remembering the solidness of his shoulders. She was by no means a small child, but she was not overweight or huge either. She was certainly not a perfectly shaped, lightweight female, and despite how she had maintained her petite frame, her hips had widened and her belly remained somewhat rounded after her childbearing of four sons. Perhaps he hadn't noticed it was why she wore a particularly flattering ensemble to hide the changes her body had undergone after the passing of her youthful days. She was actually heavier than her small frame let on, and she only hoped he would have the strength to maintain her weight for as long as they needed.

Noris turned his back to Breanne and studied the path he would need to take. If he stepped too far to the left or the right of that path, the debis below them would give out, and they would fall into an unknown mess of danger or death. There was no way to explain to her how to navigate the trail, and he could only hope that she would not strangle him the moment they landed on the ground.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Slowly, Breanne brought her arms beneath his, fighting off the sudden trembling that started. If he asked, she would convincingly lie that it was from heights and not that she realized that she needed to depend on him to survive. She wrapped her arms around his torso, her right hand clasping strongly onto her left forearm. She took a deep breath as he started climbing out the window, and she instantly regretted it as she caught the barest scent still on him of the pleasantly aromatic cleanser he had used in the hours long before his capture. Instead of wasting her concentration on an Assassin's cleaning habits, she closed her eyes and thought of her husband and how grateful Jaksen would be to learn that she had survived. She didn't need to tell him that Noris Polona had avoided his execution and that she had let him live as thanks for saving her.

When Noris reached the ground, he took a moment to look back up from where they had descended. The trek through the debris had been exhausting, both mentally and physically. The Asassin had no doubt that he could have handled it without so much exertion if he only had himself to worry about, but with Breanne holding onto him, it only made the trek that much more dangerous. At least twice, he had to compensate for the additional weight, and he nearly fell through the loose debris, but Breanne had kept quiet and let him concentrate, and for that he was grateful.

Now that they were as safe as they could be on whatever solid ground was left, they could still hear the muffled cries of people trapped in the debris around them. Noris walked Breanne to a large section of undamaged permacrete on the road, gently lowering her to sit on it, and then he started towards one of the cries that was closest to the surface. He tried to assess just where in the pile the survivor might be located, and when he started to move some of the broken building aside that he could lift, a cascade of more debris covered where he had just worked. In seconds, the muffled cries he heard had silenced, and in anger he picked up a handful of building and threw it with a growl into another pile of debris.

Breanne forced herself to stand and stepped towards him, feeling that she had do something for him. Setting a gentle hand on his arm, she had not expected that an Assassin would be capable of sacrificing himself willingly for others, and this momentary failure had only shown her just how human Noris Polona was.

"It's not your fault," she told him softly, feeling a pity for him as a sickening sensation swelled in her stomach for having nearly seen him executed.

Noris' shoulders lowered again, but instead of arguing, he looked to her injury and with reflexes that had not yet been exhausted, he caught Breanne as her legs suddenly gave out from beneath her. He saw that the blood around her bandage had become fresh again, and he lowered her to the ground, kneeling as he held her from slamming onto the debris-strewn permacrete. He knew that her blood loss wasn't helping her situation, and he could guarantee that it had been hours since she last ate or drank. He took a moment to readjust the belt on her arm, and hoped it would be enough until they could get somewhere where she could get treated properly.

After a long number of minutes during which time Breanne rested, Noris heard noises in the distance and saw a small group of people – some human, some non-human – moving down the road. They were pulling a hovercart with them and moving towards where he and his injured Templar were awaiting. They flashed glowlamps towards the debris as they moved, doing a surface search for survivors. When the rescue team approached, Noris showed the triage workers Breanne.

They explained that they were only transporting the injured who had no way of moving on their own, as their equipment was barely functional. They did give Noris directions to a central location of a now-defunct educational institution that they were using to collect the survivors and explained that rations and medical equipment were being supplied and offered for all the survivors that arrived. In the meantime, they provided water and ration bars to both Noris and Breanne and told them that due to a city-wide lockdown, no one was allowed in or out of the city, and that all flights were cancelled until further notice.

The triage personnel also informed them that they had gotten access to a news outlet, and on it the CIS had taken responsibility for the bombardment. The CIS also set up a blockade around Bevin, threatening more damage and death if the Republic dared to retaliate.

Noris and Breanne absorbed the information they were provided, and the two of them took the provisions they were offered, eating in silence. They watched as another crew appeared with equipment to begin pulling out survivors. Many of the cries they had heard earlier had silenced, and Noris could only presume many of those people had perished from lack of clean air due to breathing in debris that blocked their nasal passages and lungs. The other dying people that he had heard earlier had now most likely bled out from their injuries – much as Breanne would have done if he didn't control her bleeding when he did.

When she was strong enough to walk, Noris accompanied her to the educational building that they were told had become a shelter for all the survivors. As soon as they were given medical assistance and accommodations, they settled in with the rest of the survivors, helpless to do anything more than simply make due. What neither of them knew at that time, however, was that the lockdown would last for nine days before the Republic would finally be able to find a way to remove the CIS ships orbiting Bevin without taking more lives.


	3. Chapter 3 - A Lonely Alliance

**Part 3 – A Lonely Alliance**

 **Netone City  
Planet Bevin**

Every day for over a week, Noris fought his restlessness by disappearing for at least a couple hours each day, and whenever he returned, he managed to have with him a sack of provisions. He always brought back some combination of water, rations, clothing, or medical supplies. When he was present, he helped take care of the injured until those who were hurt no longer needed any assistance. At that time, he would just sit quietly and observe the small world he had been forced to live within.

Breanne had recovered rather quickly, as her injury was minor compared to many of the others who had been within harm's way. She decided against using the cot she was given and had offered it to others who needed the place to rest more. The medically-trained people who ran this survivor camp had cleaned her wound appropriately and sealed it with adhesives that would ensure her scarring would be minimal.

Unlike Noris, who was very much experienced with helping the injured, Breanne stayed her distance away from the down-trodden survivors. She could do little more than observe around her and reflect on her pampered existence. She was so far removed from this kind of experience that she felt she was nothing more than an obstacle hovering in the way of everyone who had adapted to their predicament.

When one of the survivors finally put his plumbing skills to good use and managed to get the water working again in the physical education building they were using, a wave of relief flooded through the people. Having the ability to finally take a shower once more had revived many of the survivors, and after a couple days, some of them had adapted to this new way of life, finding a routine that allowed them to use the facilities for their normal habits.

For the last eight days, Breanne had emotionally lived outside of the shelter and those within it, as she could not relate to these average citizens. Noris was the only person who dared to give her consistent attention, and in doing so, they had often found themselves migrating to the outdoors, where the air cleared away the sadness and the hopelessness that lived within the walls. Sometimes they just sat in the open field, finding what little grass was left between the depressions that had been created by the turbolasers from the bombarding ships. A couple times, they had found themselves sitting on opposite sides of each other around one of the few trees still standing. Often on those nights they had debated their tenets and creeds and found no common ground, other than the survival they both shared in the past few days and the fact that they were the same in their opposing ways.

Tonight, however, Breanne chose to sit against the tree trunk, and Noris had chosen to lie on the ground on her left, so that he could provide her with appropriate personal space and look upwards into the vastness of the sky they all shared. In the dim light, he had noticed that she was wearing a non-descript combination of a light-orange tunic with brown pants. Despite the lack of adornments on her clothes, they were still a bright contrast to the dull, tan tunic and pants he had chosen from the stockpile of clothes he had been retrieving during his excursions in the destroyed city.

At this point, Noris had decided that he was done debating their philosophies, and he had concluded that Breanne had broken as far as she would in her Templar knowledge. The time had come to move on and find other topics of discussion because they both realized that they were tired of discussing the same never-ending debate.

"These past days have been a new experience for you, haven't they, Breanne?" Noris asked, as his eyes mindlessly wandered the stars above through the missing top of the tree. More than half of the branches were destroyed in the bombardment, and the destruction was strewn around the ground with branches and leaves long past their burning.

"Is it so obvious?" she questioned, not quite knowing which way this conversation would go. It seemed every time they talked, he had a way of taking her off-guard and spinning her thoughts in ways that she had never considered before. She felt she was always on the defensive, but for what exactly, she didn't know anymore. He made her question the very beliefs that she had been born into and raised to follow, and no one had ever done that before.

"You've remained separated from these innocent people while you have been living amongst them," he answered. "I can almost sense that you've never had your home destroyed, your possessions taken, or your loved ones harmed."

"You sound as if you have," Breanne replied, catching the way his blue eyes shone in the distance.

She wondered if maybe he wasn't looking quite so mindlessly, but he actually had a destination for his eyes. And, a brief spark of curiosity found its way into her thoughts as for what exactly he had experienced in his life, but she forced it away. As soon as they were free from the lockdown, they were going their separate ways, and she would never think of him or the way he made her question her beliefs again.

"You are right. It's not my first time in a survivor camp," Noris told her, keeping his vigilance on the stars. "There's always someone somewhere who wants some kind of power or financial gain, and it is innocent people like the ones in the shelter behind us who suffer for it."

Breanne again saw the truth in his words. She wondered how she had managed to stay so blind her entire life that she knew nothing of the true nature of the galaxy. Had Jaksen merely protected her too much or did he purposefully manipulate her so that she would never understand the life beyond her own world?

"I was born into nobility, and hold the title of countess," she quietly admitted to Noris, never certain why she talked to him as easily as she did, but relieved to have him with her to discuss the things for which she had no one else to understand. "My husband is not only a high-ranked Templar, but he is of noble bearing as well."

Nodding silently, Noris shifted his eyes around the sky above. "You were right to keep that knowledge to yourself. There is no aristocracy on this world, and advertising your status could bring unnecessary tensions."

Breanne decided she had nothing to offer to what he had said, and she opted to remain silent, keeping her noble breeding a secret between the two of them. She, instead, took a long moment to just look at the stars above. With the city still in lockdown and with the CIS in orbit, repair crews had not yet been issued approval to start a rebuilding effort, and the stars above them were the brightest she had ever seen, anywhere, without any artificial lights to dull their shine. She knew her husband and sons were somewhere out in that vast sprinkling of white dots, but she would not know where to even begin looking. There were so many stars and planets littering the sky above her that they all blended, and she could not discern one dot from the next.

"You also miss your loved ones," Noris said, as he continued to stay in his relaxed position against that welcoming patch of grass that covered the ground in front of the tree.

He had cleared away the debris days ago from this space, and he had enclosed it with the destroyed branches to give them a hidden spot where they were free from curious eyes and prying ears. None of the survivors needed to know about a Templar or an Assassin in their midst, and neither he nor Breanne needed to spend their time explaining ancient Orders and Brotherhoods that lived hidden in the galaxy to survivors who had other worries on their minds.

"How can you tell?" she asked, keeping her knees curled with her arms over them. She realized now that he could read her so clearly, despite how days ago she had been certain she had maintained her emotional walls.

"There is a sadness in your eyes that has you looking for home when you glance upwards."

While Breanne had fallen vulnerable to Noris, she also hated that she had allowed herself to be so transparent to him. Somehow, Noris was able to see her in a way that even her own husband no longer could, and it left her both sad for the man she had married and scared because a total stranger was able to see what the man who was supposed to be closest to her could not.

"I have a family, and I miss them," she admitted, "I have four sons who are long gone to their training."

"Are you lonely in your life?" he asked suddenly.

Breanne didn't like the question, despite how innocently it had been posed, and she started to gather her feet beneath her. However, Noris was faster as he rolled onto his side and took hold of her arm. It stopped her, and she felt her pulse racing, much as it had for so many of these days that they had been trapped together on Bevin. But, she pushed it aside, as she had every other time it started, and instead she got her thoughts back to his question.

Breanne was not lonely during the years she courted Jaksen, and they had a wonderful marriage. She doubted she would have willingly shared in the production of four sons with her husband if they were less than smitten. She just hated that the Templars had taken her family and separated them with duties. She longed again for those early days of her marriage when she and Jaksen were together and sharing a relationship based on emotions they both shared. Now, they seemed more of a business partnership than a loving companionship.

"That is not a question you have the right to ask," Breanne told Noris coldly and pulled her arm from his touch.

Noris relented his hold, but he stayed on his side, allowing his eyes to study her profile. He found the simple outlines gave her a sophistication and a curvature in her face that was pleasing in its classical lines. He was aware how Breanne had begun to question her Templar doctrines behind her hazel eyes, and that this experience had shown her the other side of her Templar comforts in a way that a simple discussion never could.

Breanne reconsidered her coldness towards Noris for a moment, as he did not deserve her anger when he had done nothing to deserve it. She had seen how much progress the two of them had made in the long days they had spent together in an effort to understand each other, and she only hoped she wouldn't regret turning his questions back to him.

"What about you, Noris? Are you lonely?"

He felt the emotional ache suddenly at her inquiry, but instead of closing down, he decided to use it to give her a sense of just how much alike they could be, despite their vastly different beliefs. "Eternally."

Not expecting such an answer, Breanne unfolded her arms from around her legs and shifted her position to study this very unusual Assassin. She thought he would have simply left his answer as vague as the ones she gave him, but when he saw he had her attention, he explained what he meant.

"I was married once, very long ago," Noris said, as his eyes turned again to the stars above and sought a life that he was never meant to have. "We had a daughter – Kaelyn – but she died unexpectedly and without any explanation before she was three months old. My wife was neither Assassin nor Templar, and she had led me to believe that she would stand beside me no matter what. But, Kaelyn's death had affected her and changed her, as she could not release her grief, and she blamed me for losing our daughter. She accused me of allowing fate to take our daughter from us as retribution for the lives I had extinguished in my duties to the Brotherhood. My wife no longer saw me as a partner or a protector, and she left, fearing that more death would follow her if she stayed."

Breanne shifted her eyes from Noris and the pain in his blue eyes that he had suppressed for so long. Instead, she brought her attention out to the darkness that fell beyond their little shelter of tree branches. Her thoughts were once again spinning at how vulnerable he made her feel and how easily he revealed himself to her.

"Your arm is healing well," Noris told her, changing the subject, as he sensed that no matter how much he told Breanne, she would still never be receptive to letting go of the war that would not end between her Order and his Brotherhood.

He could also see that there was a fine line between his awareness of the emotional ache within her and not pushing those reflections on her without insulting her. She was a strong woman, but so hollow inside that the wrong approach would shatter her into a cold and unforgiving enemy.

Bringing in a quiet breath, Breanne shifted her gaze to him, feeling a sadness for the grief she saw he continued to carry. "I should have thanked you for taking care of me. I am grateful that you didn't leave me there to suffer."

Noris sat up and turned to face her, his words giving her a truth he was certain she had never considered. "Just because our Orders are at war, it does not mean that we, as individuals, need to be. I wrestled for a long time with the thought of leaving my Brotherhood, and I had finally decided that I want to live the rest of my life in peace. I've lost so much that I am done with taking it from others."

Breanne caught something honest and sincere in his blue irises, and it was yet another strike she felt against the Templar armor she once wore so faithfully. She thought of Jaksen and how he was so strong in the doctrines, his beliefs unbending. He was so faithful that he had convinced her to send her sons – her children – away when they each turned of age to learn. He promised her that they would be taught by the best Templars he knew, and they would be strong to carry on the traditions and the need to bring the galaxy where it needed to be. She had not seen any of her sons since the day each of them left, and she ached to be a mother to them, guiding them with patience and compassion. Even her marriage had grown stale while her husband attended to business more than he did to her. She wondered suddenly if being a Templar was worth it.

"I am lonely as well, Noris," she admitted quietly, as her head lowered in a shame she had never acknowledged before. She did not fully understand why she had told this Assassin her darkest secret, but the words continued to fall from her lips. "I have been since the day each of my sons were sent away, and it has only increased every day thereafter."

Noris dared to reach out, and he glided his fingers along her hand, catching it in a gentle grasp. He heard her sharply inhale a breath and felt the way she trembled under his fingers. He moved just a little bit closer to her, the only light that glowed around them coming from the stars and the two moons above them. When her eyes raised to him, he saw very clearly the glint of want and need in her hazel irises, and it was a hunger she had hidden beneath her coldness.

Breanne felt the wash of heat and cold rush over her, his touch releasing a shiver that did not come from the night air. She saw a layer of warmth in his blue eyes, a caring that he had learned to bury and keep concealed. She swallowed down the dryness in her throat that had come on suddenly as his heated fingers curled over hers, tickling her palm and the back of her hand in a maddening way. Her heart raced, and she thought of her sons, lost to her in the galaxy. She reminded herself that she was married to Jaksen, and he did not deserve to be betrayed by the lonely woman inside of her – the lonely woman who had emotionally connected to the lonely man who sat before her.

The warmth of Noris' breath near Breanne's lips jolted through her, and the arguments within her head only grew louder. She realized that she was staring into those blue irises of his, and there was a calm in them that stirred emotions within her that she had not known for a long time. She brought her hand to his chest to push him back, as she knew such thoughts were a corruption to the vows she had given to Jaksen. She couldn't help but think that this man was nothing but an antagonist who was tempting her away from her vows and her commitments to her husband, her sons, and her Templars, and he would care nothing for the consequences she would endure.

Just as she was about to tell Noris to forget whatever seduction he was trying, she felt a flush of heat pressing to her hand, and she felt the raised line of a scar beneath her fingertips. Once more Breanne felt a shallow breath escape her lips at the warmth of his skin, realizing that in her attempt to push him away, her fingers were drawn to what lie beneath the untied laces of his tunic. While her fingers had continued their curious roaming, Breanne found her fingertips trace that scar along his chest. Her quiet gasp echoed softly on the night air as she came to her senses, only to find that her lips were brushing maddeningly close upon his. She didn't understand why her efforts to end this temptation only brought her closer to falling off the edge of a cliff for which there was no returning.

Noris saw how much Breanne was torn, and he would neither move forward nor walk away. He was keenly aware that she was a woman who craved attention and compassion and had been denied both, but he also was mindful about how she was loyal and faithful. The promises she made to another man held her from the moment that waited patiently before her, and he had decided that it was Breanne's choice as to whether she wanted to know the compassion he could let her experience or if she would remain faithful and be left questioning the opportunity that hung before her tonight.

Fighting his own hunger for her touch, he would not have expected such a moment to happen between them nearly two weeks ago when he was the prisoner she had curiously wanted to interrogate in her own way. Now, she sat before him with hazel eyes that he would gladly get lost within if it would allow her to see the Templars for the power-hungry fools that they were. He prepared himself for Breanne's senses to recover at any moment, and for her to toss him away in disgust, blaming him for tempting her and seducing her.

Noris breathed lightly, carefully, utilizing all his skill to make no motions that would betray the need he felt from Breanne's touch. The heat of her hand on him had caused his heart to race, and the tender brushstroke of her fingertips over the scar near his heart was comparable to an artist's brush painting gracefully. He had thoughts and words he could say to persuade her in either direction, but he held them, knowing that the battle within her did not need his influence. Even to say her name would send her one way or the other, and her decision was not his to command.

Breanne was consumed now with the gentle kindness in this man's eyes, and it was unlike anything she had ever seen before. She saw that he had his experiences with loss, pain, longing, and love. He had felt joy and had been betrayed. He was a survivor who fought for something more than just himself, and despite what he no longer had in his life, he sought to find more than what he had already known. What he had told her about leaving his Brotherhood was a truth so real, she could read it clearly in his blue eyes. A trembling wave of realization had come over Breanne at that, and despite the protests she had moments ago, they had grown silent. Somehow in the quiet stillness of the night, she had made a decision that did not come lightly.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the moment, quickly moving forward slightly, not allowing her conscience a chance to catch up with her decision. In her next inhale, the heat of Noris' lips were against hers, and Breanne was aware of how the trembling she had felt earlier had intensified under their kiss. Instinctively, she pressed to him with a want and a longing she had only ever reserved for Jaksen, and with that thought, Breanne felt the rush of the moment crash around her.

She ripped her hand from Noris' encasing fingers and set it next to her other hand upon his chest, and against some part of her that begged her not to, she pushed him back to break the seal of their lips. She lowered her head and sucked in a breath, confused as to why she would possibly feel a hunger for more and yearn desperately for his touch. Breanne chewed on her bottom lip, tasting the remnants of the ration bars that they were provided for dinner earlier and found the nutty flavor gave her a craving for his lips that she had never imagined she would know. She reminded herself about Jaksen but he felt so faded from her that this moment was all she could see.

Noris forced down his disappointment, realizing that whatever this infection was between them that they shared was the most confusing thing he had ever known. Eight days ago, Breanne Wynsridge was ready to see him killed for no other reason than he was an Assassin and she a Templar. Now, they were caught in a perverse attraction that should not exist – and it was beyond their involvement in the perpetual war between the Assassins and Templars – it should not exist because she was committed to another man. It should not matter whether she was unhappy and lonely in that arrangement, he had no right to invade her life in such ways. Yet, as she was unable to release her hands from his chest, he did not have the strength to reject her, as he knew he should.

Finally raising her eyes to Noris, Breanne swallowed hard as she somehow was finally able to let go of everything about her that was a Templar, a wife, and a mother. As she studied the kindness in Noris' blue eyes, she had decided that for one night, she would just be a free woman, one who could make her own choices and live in the freedom that the night gave her.

Aware of her fingers curling around the material of Noris' tunic, Breanne pulled him to her, feeling his lips yield once again to hers. After a few moments, his rough, warm hand found purchase on her face, and he cupped her cheek gently. Breanne felt fueled by his touch, and she did not resist as his other hand slipped around her back, and he slowly fell backwards onto the ground. Clutching to his tunic, she shifted with him, letting his movements guide her as she eased herself forward and settled onto him.

The darkness of night and the blockade Noris had made from the broken tree branches had kept them concealed from everything around them. In the time that they spent together, they were no longer on opposite sides of a war that had raged for eons. For one long moment in time, their loneliness was satiated, and they held onto the unique connection they shared, certain it was something that neither would ever know again. However, the one thing neither expected was that, while they would forever be separated after this night, their connection in this moment would one day entangle them once again to the choices they had made.


End file.
